


Platform 9 3/4

by Che_Butter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23627338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Che_Butter/pseuds/Che_Butter
Summary: Death has seen many things in its long eternity assisting recently departed souls into their afterlives. Having seen innumerable spirits over the course of infinity, Death has found itself incapable of questioning the mortal souls it ferries. Save for one lone RIDDLE.
Relationships: Death/Harry Potter, Death/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 16
Kudos: 139





	Platform 9 3/4

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Well, here's my first-ever Harry Potter fanfiction! I had this idea after watching The Deathly Hallows Movie Part 2 last night and just couldn't resist the urge to write it down!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy reading it!
> 
> Thanks!

He was still there. The limp, tearful form of the once-proud Lord Voldemort that everyone had come to know and hate. Even surprisingly Death had found itself as being one of those that shared in the mass hysteria. Death had long since set aside its emotions towards the living and even deceased souls. But there was something about the half blood’s desperation to stall his mortality that caused feeling within the usually shapeless entity.

It found itself pondering on Tom in particular. It was a simple pass time in the realm of nothing and everything that held Death’s interest for as long as the Human lived. The fact that Tom was willing to go as far as to split himself into 8 different pieces to ensure his meeting with Death would never occur was both interring and insulting. It didn’t matter what Tom Riddle would do. Their meeting would occur. No-one could escape Death, and now the mortal’s soul was suffering immensely for the attempt. 

Death could see everything after all. Everything that existed and had yet to be created by its other half, Life. It was ages older than humanity, eons older than time and existed before the very thought of beginning. Death was equal only to its counterpart; life.

Yet, Tom Riddle hoped to be equal to Death and in hindsight, Life as well. At first, Death felt confused as its formless essence watched Tom make his first Horcrux. It had known this would occur, observed this event before Tom Riddle, his mother Merope Gaunt or even Marvolo Gaunt, Tom’s maternal grandfather, were even thought of. Yet the known event still perplexed Death. Why try to stop peace from reaching your soul? Why stop the adventure? It could not understand the Slytherin's obsession with avoiding its embrace. Especially since the younger Tom, mentally begged for its sweet touch often.

Death’s confusion slowly became anger though when the teenager grew. Because as the years past, Tom’s desperation for immortality became offending. Death did nothing. It could do nothing but welcome every individual that the insane Lord Voldermort met. 

It was not judgmental or discriminatory on its charges, nor did it attempt to show emotion. Death was just a guide to something better for the souls it encountered. It welcomed all into its embrace, from the terrified Riddle family, the confused Hepzibah Smith, the relieved muggle prostitute, the insane Bellatrix Lestrange, and all the way to the skeptical former Professor Snape, who humorously tried to interrogate Death after he was claimed. Death left no soul lost, no matter the backstory. 

Death, of course, had been vague with its immense knowledge. It showed kindness but in a direct way when it came to its charges' questions. Never revealing too much information that could potentially confuse the lost souls', Death was hoping to guide to their own individual doorways to heaven. Death had no idea what happened to them after that. For each soul had its paradise and while it was possible that souls could share their heavens with another. It was Death’s job just to assist them in escaping the darkness that threatened to consume them. Nothing more and nothing less.

Tom Riddle had not escaped the darkness though, either in Life or Death, and as his Human years dwindled, Death’s anger turned into a strange sense of pity; for Death could not take what was no longer there. So the once-proud terrorist that shook the Wizarding and Muggle world, remained stuck in limbo. Trapped in endless mental agony for his previous actions, Tom's “soul” was beyond repair and no matter what Death did, it could not free the wizard from its torment.

It tried coaxing him with soothing words, almost like how a mother would to a young child; but Tom’s tortured soul would scream and cry harder when Death’s essence slowly wrapped around his terrifyingly, deformed figure.

“Please, I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go!”

Death, much to its sadness would then be forced to leave the area that Tom had chosen to remain for all eternity, the Hogwarts Train Station, one of the only places that Tom had ever felt joy at being. 

As the mortal years past, Death continued to do its job; collecting the recently departed and helping them find the way to heaven. Lucius Malfoy was one of the ones that Death collected a few years after the war. Like Tom, he had chosen the Hogwarts train station as his doorway, unlike Tom however the golden train arrived; its doors opening and beckoning the recently deceased Malfoy lord to enter. Lucius did not hesitate to comply, even when the muffled cries of Voldemort echoed from underneath one of the Train Station’s benches.

His wife, Narcissa joined him a few months later in the same fashion. The woman did, however, look down underneath the bench to see who was crying but quickly stood back up and walked towards the golden opening, shaking her head at the sad image.

It was a similar situation with their son Draco, years later when he joined them in death. The then aged Malfoy had paused at the shaking silhouette, offering a quick, small sad smile at the disfigured soul before entering the train and vanishing. Whether or not that was Draco’s way of forgiving Tom was beyond Death. Some part of Death hoped that that was indeed the case, as perhaps others would follow suit, unknowingly helping Tom cross over himself.

However as Death collected more souls, it noticed that the majority of its charges would ignore the cries and whimpers if the Hogwarts Train Station was their chosen doorway setting. Hermione Weasley surprisingly was one of them, as well as Molly & Arthur Weasley, who died many years before the Muggle-born witch. It was interesting, to say the least, that Ronald Weasley followed the same mindset as his predecessors. All of the deceased Weasleys walked past Tom, giving the soul no attention. No remorse and no pity was given or even shown for his unfortunate predicament. 

Death was struggling with Tom itself and after continuously failing to try to convince him to move on, it was forced to give up on its attempts. Death ceased asking and proceeded to vanish every time one of its charges crossed over at the station. Begrudgingly respecting the distraught soul’s wishes to be left to suffer alone. 

It was many more years before Death received the final soul in the heroic golden trio. Harry Potter. Harry was much older when Death came for him and just as the youngest brother in the old Deathly Hollows fable, Harry happily accepted Death as an old friend. He did not fight as it wrapped itself around him, pulling the then ancient wizard into a restful, unwakable slumber.

Death was unsurprised when Harry, like his friends before him chose the Hogwarts Train Station as his means of crossing over. 

“Where do I go now?” Harry asked, his eyes twinkled at the scenery presented before him.

Death only pointed at the door opening up on the Hogwarts Train, its whistle blaring; indicating to both the presences that it was time to go. 

Harry took 6 steps before he found his wrinkled legs running towards the entrance. It was uncanny because the wizard was well aware that if he were still alive, running at his physical age would be near impossible. He felt no pain though as he braced himself for the two steps that would lead him into the train. Harry Potter put one foot on the step and was getting ready to pull the other up as well when a thought occurred to him that stopped his process.

Death watched as the man turned back around, a determined look in his face as he walked forward as if looking for something. Confusion leaked out of Death’s voice as he questioned Harry’s motives.

“I can’t leave. Not yet.” 

Death made no move to stop him. He could not force the boy who once lived to enter, but Death had assumed that nothing would have stopped Harry from crossing over. His friends, his family, everyone that Harry loved and lost was already on the other side and Death had a feeling that they were waiting for his arrival.

“There’s something I still need to do before I can leave.” Harry said out loud, sternly looking at Death’s wispy silhouette before crawling under the bench to come face to face with Tom. 

Tom Riddle did not look up at Harry’s saddened face. He was well aware of who was hovering in front of him. The soul had spent practically his whole life obsessing over the child and if he were still alive he would have not allowed his then nemesis to see him in such a state. However, Tom couldn’t find the strength to look at Harry. Guilt had consumed him, washing over his fetus like remains in never-ending waves. The torn apart soul huddled against himself, refusing eye contact as Harry Potter willed his body to once again shape into the young 11-year old that first knowingly encountered Tom.

“Tom.” He whispered, his hand reaching out to touch Voldemort’s trembling shoulder. The action stifled his enemy's cries. “Its time for me to move on and I can’t do that unless I tell you something.”

Tom’s eyes against his control, looked over at Harry’s slender form. Harry was just as he remembered him. Innocent and trusting, yet courageous and strong. Lord Voldemort had seriously misjudged the boy during their shared time on Earth. Tom forced himself to keep focus as Harry cleared his throat. The former dark lord felt that he could at least give Harry this.

“You tortured me for years.” The 11-year-old began, his eyes never left Riddle’s face and found comfort in the fact that the man that tormented him all that time ago, mustered up a look of genuine regret. “You killed my parents and had your followers kill people that I loved. For the better part of my childhood, I grew up thinking that I didn’t deserve to live for all the pain that I seemed to bring to people.”

Tom winced at the memories and moaned loudly. Harry just took a deep breath, adjusting his glasses out of habit as he continued.

“I grew up hating you and hating myself. But as I look at you now, I realize that the only reason I was able to survive was that I was loved.” 

Harry took yet another short pause, furrowing his eyebrows tightly. It was almost as if he was contemplating the next part of his speech and whether or not he should admit it. 

“But that’s just it Tom! If I didn’t have the people around me that I did. If I didn’t have my friends, Professor Dumbledore, Sirius, Professor Lupin, Heromine, Ron! If I didn’t have those connections, I wouldn’t have been to survive! I would have been just like you. Alone, and deep down scared.”

Death found himself holding a nonexistent breath as he watched the display before him with obvious wonder. His essence floated around the bench, careful not to intrude on the priceless moment occurring. Harry looked up as the train whistle blew again but his gaze returned to Tom. It happened so quickly that the torn soul had no time to react. His cold body was suddenly being held in a gentle but firm grip that Tom wasn’t sure if he wanted to shake out of or not. He was wrapped in the arms of someone he never thought would want to reach out to him with words, let alone something as personal as touch. 

“I forgive you, Tom," Harry whispered. "I forgive you for the pain and the hardships you helped put me through. I forgive you, so not only I can move on but so you are finally free too as well. No one should have to stay here for eternity like this. I forgive you so you can leave.”

The shaking stopped as Tom felt himself change. His flesh was no longer cold and clammy. His tortured, inhuman appearance that he had been forced into for countless years faded away to reveal a much younger Tom. For the first time in his death and most likely the first time in general in Tom’s personal opinion, he took a deep breath, feeling like a heavy burden had finally been lifted. He burrowed his head in Harry’s shoulder, causing his short black hair to fall in front of his reddish eyes. The tears of relief silently fell down his pale, young cheeks. 

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” The former dark lord choked his adolescent voice almost unhearable due to the massive amount of tears. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Harry said nothing just pulled the other child into his arms before showing him a wide smile. He pulled himself out of the bench, extending his hand out to Tom, who looked at it with slight fear.

“Come with me, Tom. Let’s leave."

“I’m afraid of moving on, Harry.” The restored soul said after a few seconds of slight tremors. Tom Riddle wasn’t lying. The thought of moving on, never came easy for the boy when he was alive and there was no exception in his death. “I’m afraid of what’s on the other side.”

Harry chuckled at the response, before answering. “Me too, to a degree, but at the same time, I am excited. I am ready to enter the next phase. Entering that train is only the beginning of something better.” 

Tom still didn’t look convinced. A faint blush forming on his face as he gazed at the bench and then at Harry and then back at the bench.

“You can’t stay here anymore Tom and neither can I.” 

Tom eyed the hand before him warily before clutching it tightly. Harry took the action as confirmation that his companion was ready to stand and gently pulled the boy to his feet. 

The rest of the darkness slowly disappeared around Tom, leaving him only nervous. His feet refused to move from the spot beside the bench that he had called home. Hiding was how Tom survived as a child. Was it worth it to leave? What would be on the other side for him anyway?

Harry must have picked up on Tom’s sudden apprehension.

“C’mon Tom.” He said comfortingly. “Let’s finish this the way we started. Together.” 

Harry once more smiled as Tom allowed his once most hated enemy to hold his hand. The two orphans said nothing as they slowly walked forward until their feet reached the first few steps of the train. Death observed the duo, watching intently as Harry made the first move to climb aboard. The boy who once lived never allowed his hand to let go of Tom’s as he slowly stepped up into the chamber, vanishing partially in the light. Tom slowly pursued, his feet slowly resting on each step before giving Death a small genuine smile, before gathering up the rest of his courage and joining Harry in the golden light. Whatever heaven lied ahead for the boys was beyond Death. But it hoped that for the two orphans who struggled so heavily in life, that it was everything they could want and more. With that thought, Death vanished once more into the realm of everything and nothing, which is neither a soul’s beginning nor its ending.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this story, please REVIEW, KUDO and/or BOOKMARK.  
> The feedback helps motivate me, a procrastinating author, to write more! Thanks!


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